


Bindings

by stateofintegrity



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the walls of Helm's Deep, Gimli wonders if he is worthy of the love of an elf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bindings

Burdens and Bindings

Disclaimer: I make no money from this! :)

The parapets of Helm’s Deep seemed to drink down the rain; the great fortress faded seamlessly into the dark hills and the backdrop of a storm dark sky. Its sole dwarven defender only hoped that it might serve to break the great, dark army stretched before it, might shatter foul bodies filled with hatred and black blood. They would fight hard, these people of Rohan. He could see their grim determination in their eyes and in the way they hefted their weapons. And their spirits were much lifted by the arrival of the elves. _No darkness there_ , he thought with a rueful smile. _All silver-flash and white throat, these fey, fierce creatures. Pale blades in pale hands. Yet, I am glad of them, for all of their strangeness. I am made glad, because of **you**_ **.**

His dear friend was among the Rivendell folk even now, speaking in that flute-like bird tongue of his people and asking of word for the Greenwood. Gimli smiled again. His time with Legolas had made him rethink even his name for things. Mirkwood was Mirkwood no more in his thoughts, for to call it so was to win a frown from that face he counted loveliest of all the faces on the shores of the world (saving, of course, that of the Lady herself). Sifting through memories of the elven archer he had once mistrusted merely for the make and the shine of him, he saw the elves take their places on the battlements. Distant lightning silvered the sky and the warriors showed themselves fair and deadly in its dangerous glow. A hand descended on his shoulder and he almost cursed himself for the warmth that wended through him at so simple a touch. “Come, Gimli. Take your place at my side as we await the orders of the commanders.”

An Erebor-made boot shuffled across the ancient stone and the dwarf pitched his voice low so as not to be overheard by all those pointed ears just ahead. “No, lad. I’ll not shame you before all of your elven kinsmen.”

Bright blue eyes widened and flashed and he thought of blue sky breaking through storm. “Shame me? Heartsfriend, do you think that you could? Know you not that you are dear to me?”

Gimli drew back a pace so that they might speak alone and felt relief when the child of the woodlands followed. “We’ve shared much, ‘tis true,” he admitted, sounding sad and unlike himself. “And promises and bindings we’ve made, one to the other. But this world may not last to see such promises fulfilled.” _And I would not have your kin speak ill of you because you spoke my name with affection and with gladness_.

“It will last.” That voice knew him and knew that he was not acting himself.

Seeing something in those eyes, Gimli reverted to his shielded-self and made a noncommittal sound. “Easy for an elf to say. You see all things as unlimited, for you will live forever.”

“Ah, the differences between elves and dwarves have come to concern you, then? They have not bothered you all the miles we traveled together, nor all the nights you lay down at my side.”

Gimli blushed and stuttered. Since their traveling companions were a ranger and a wizard, he doubted their newfound companionship was unknown, but they had made efforts to be discreet. And here the fool elf was, announcing everything where anyone might overhear! _And what hope is there that they might understand?_ the dwarf wondered sadly. A _s like, they would call him fallen, tainted for my touch_. When he looked up, Legolas’s bright eyes were still upon him. That gaze seemed to read him and to have little sympathy with his thoughts.

“Come with me,” the archer said at last. “I had intended to ask you this after the battle, but if it will convince you, then I will speak the words now.”

Brandy-bright eyes regarded him with confusion and with hope. “What is it?”

“Not here, where it is grim and dark and the orcs give voice to wild songs over the plains. Come.”

Having learned the changeable nature and seeming capriciousness of elven-kind, the dwarf let himself be drawn down from the battlements and through the fortress into a small and empty guardroom. Gimli would not have marked it especially less grim or less dark, but it had the advantage of a door, which Legolas promptly closed and barred before extending a small jewel, fashioned to look like a green leaf. Gimli had seen it before, worn just over his heart. He had often wondered if it was a dwarven hand that had mined that gem and polished it until light could shine through it, just as it shined through the forest’s green and shifting canopy.

“Why do you give your treasures unto me, Master elf?”

Legolas laughed and shook his head. “Will you still not give voice to my name? Do you fear some sorcery?”

“Touching you, Legolas… it has the feel of some great magic,” admitted the dwarf.

“Then accept my gift and bind yourself to me. Say you will leave Middle Earth itself behind when the sea finally calls my name.”

His fingers felt clumsy as he turned the jewel. _Legolas Greenleaf, this gem is yours – is you. And any who see it upon my breast_ … Staggered, he tried to make the firstborn see sense. “You ask for much, dear one, and much that may condemn you. A few dalliances and you would have me hung about your neck like a weight of stone, pulling you away from your companions, away from the starlight.”

Anger made the elf’s face pale; the force of his breathing made his nostrils flare and chest heave. “Dalliances!? Do you claim that I have trifled with you?”

He made a pacifying motion, made himself speak the lies that would keep his immortal friend free of the encumbrance of his mortal self. No mortal could journey across the sea to live forever among the elves! “I blame you not, Legolas. You could not help it. Elven blood is warm and kindles quickly.”

“You still do not trust me!”

He held the leaf out to return it to its master’s hand. “I do. At my back in battle and at my side. You are dear to me. But I would not have you mocked in my name.”

A newborn storm surged in and out of the depths of eyes gone grey with immortal fury. “Let me show you the kindling of an elf.”

He forced the dwarf against the wall of the guardroom and claimed his mouth with lips as hot, Gimli would have sworn, as dragon fire. “I am bound to you, Gimli, Gloin’s son,” he told him, pinning the leaf to his shoulder. “Whether you would have it or no. And I will have you for my own.”

***

The heat of their joined bodies had left the walls slick and Gimli slid down the face of the stone to slump in an exhausted heap. Legolas sank with him, unbound braids tangling about the two of them like the lining of a nest. Affection colored the dwarf’s tone when he finally spoke. “I am worn by you, elf.”

Summer-bright eyes met his and Legolas smiled. “And I by you. You do fierce, strange things to my heart until I feel nearly mortal.”

A fond hand stroked over a pale and naked shoulder. “No. You still feel like an elf. Light and fair and terrible and more than half magic… and I belong to you.”

Legolas seemed to accept the answer, his eyes saying, _And you shall live through these days of great darkness, my most-beloved. We will see this world renewed and you shall be ever at my side._ Rising as one, they dressed and returned to hear the words of war spoken by mighty captains of Rohan and Rivendell alike. And as Gimli faced into the storm, the green jewel glinted and flashed upon his breast.


End file.
